Winnie the Pooh and Christmastide Too
by Rose103
Summary: A parody of Felicity's Surprise but with WinniethePooh.Pooh gets invited to a fancy ball but Tigger does not approve. Takes place in Detroit. Contains Naughty Language
1. Chapter 1

Diclaimer- I do not own Winnie the Pooh Disney or any of Pooh's little friends. This story takes place in the Hundred Acre Wood, in my story it is a suburb of Detroit. Part One

"Hey Pooh Bear Dude! Wake up, rise and shine!" Retired NFL running back Shawsey Sanders burst into Pooh's bedroom. It was a quarter after two, on a sparkling early December Thursday. Shawsey threw open the shutters and hoisted up the blinds. A flood of sunlight that had been dancing over the glistening, white, blanket of snow, streamed in.

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered. He rolled onto his stomach and shoved his head deep under the pillow. "I have no need to get up right now. Leave me alone."

"Well it would be nice if you ever did find a job, so you had a reason to get up besides stuffing your face," Shawsey snorted. "But today you have a special visitor. He's waiting in the parlor. Make haste! Brush your hair. Give yourself a quick sponge bath. It's an important guest and he mustn't be kept waiting."

This all was not registering with Pooh. Pooh had friends stop by Mr. Sanders's town home all the time wanting to play a delightful game of Pooh Sticks or get burgers at Ruby Tuesday, but Shawsey let none of them wait in the parlor. The parlor was reserved for Barry's business guests, ex football stars, and the plethora of gorgeous ladies Barry often invited over.

"A guest for me? In the parlor?" Pooh yawned as he stuffed his paw deep into his boxer shorts to adjust his morning wood. Shawsey had begun to pull out a clean, red, shirt for Pooh to wear.

"Yes, yes," he said hurriedly. "Tis a very important guest. Now get your fat calorie laden ass out of bed! I wouldn't be surprised if Bill Parcells himself turned up at the door next."

"Who that?" Pooh asked as he rolled onto his back.

"Just get a move on!" Shawsey crowed and swatted Pooh with a pillow.

In as much haste as an overweight bear of minute brain can manage, Pooh rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He was outrageously hung over. Pooh wasn't one to go drinking much. For someone like Tigger, a hangover wasn't a hangover, it was just morning. But for Pooh, a hangover was an immense tragedy that killed a day, and left him puking until all he had left to puke was a bubbly, acidic, bile- mucus, and a splitting headache. He heaved into the toilet. Pooh hadn't meant to get trashed last night, Piglet was obsessed with the TV show _Lost._ Every Wednesday night she would have her closest friends over to watch the show and enjoy good drink, merriment, and canapés. Last night was no exception except for Tigger bringing over the ingredients to make honey cake shots. Pooh isn't one to resist honey anyway, so when he saw Tigger bring an array of shot glasses all looking like jewels, it was hard to say no. The shot was also fun to drink as well. It was a great ordeal. Tigger took lemons and doused them in sugar, Pooh was to suck the sugar off the lemon and then drink a wonderful concoction of butterscotch schnapps. Bailey's Irish cream, nutmeg, and Godiva white chocolate liquor. It tasted just like a warm, freshly baked, honey cake, and Pooh had enjoyed the concoction immensely. Now he was paying the price. He gazed with glassy eyes at the bloodshot bear that stared back at him in the mirror. Today of all days he had to have an important visitor! But who could it be?

Pooh slowly made his way to the parlor. He was taken aback by what he saw.

"Jiminy!" He exclaimed. There standing in the parlor were three men. One had a long page-boy haircut, with a light blue beret perched upon his head. He wore pristine white tights. He was holding a rolled official looking document in one hand, and the glass of spiced cranberry sherry that Shawsey had served in the other. The other two men adorned fine white powdered wigs with all kinds of curls. Their tights were just as pristine and their waistcoats had fine golden buttons and fine braided trim. One held a machine gun, the other, a trumpet. He trumpeted a fanfare as Pooh stepped into the room.

"Greetings from Felix von Maurer," the man with the pageboy hair announced. "President of Maurer Motor Company, owner of the Hundred Acre Wood Wolves pro sports team, and Detroit's favorite philanthropist. Am I currently addressing Winfred Pooh the III?"

"That's me," Pooh replied. On top of the commode there sat a crystal jar filled with cashews. Pooh helped himself to a hearty handful, hoping it would settle his nerves.

"This is for you. It is from Mr. Felix von Maurer himself." The man handed Pooh the document. All three gentlemen bowed to Pooh whose mouth was filled with cashews. Pooh wasn't sure what to do, so he raised his paw as if to give a blessing like in church. The trumpeter played another fanfare, and then the men trooped out to the ornate carriage that was drawn with a team of six snow white horses. Pooh watched from the window as the carriage pulled away.

"So what did they want?" Shawsey asked. "What did Felix von Maurer's counsel want?"

"They gave me this," Pooh replied. "Can you fry me up some hash browns?" Pooh gave the document to Shawsey. He was more concerned with his upset tummy.

The document was on pristine lily white paper with gold edges, and tied with a deep Hawaiian blue silken ribbon. Shawsey removed the ribbon and began to read it.

"Oh Pooh," he breathed. "This is so very exciting! Listen here."

Felix von Maurer the II and his family request the presence of Winfred Pooh III at a grand ball to be thrown at the von Maurer Mansion December 23 at 9 o'clock in the Taurus Ballroom. R.S.V.P. black tie required.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

Pooh had no time to react for another knock came from the door.

"I wonder if it's the president of the United States," Shawsey chuckled as he went to answer it. But it was Piglet, dressed in a pale pink down parka, trimmed with white mink fur, furry white boots, and a white mink headband. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold air outside. She was clutching an invitation just like Pooh's.

"I see you already got yours," she cried. "I knew you'd be getting one this year. Isn't it exciting?"

"Oh Bother," Pooh muttered as he sunk down onto the settee. "I don't see what all the fuss is about. What is a silly old ball anyway?"

Piglet's jaw dropped to the floor.

"Pooh, a ball is a grand event. This one is at the von Maurer Mansion. You are invited inside as a guest!"

"Felix von Maurer throws a grand Christmas ball for Detroit's most influential every year at his mansion," Shawsey explained. "Myself and Piglet are invited every year."

"They hire a real orchestra to play waltzes by Strauss," Piglet went on. "Everyone ballroom dances. Men wear fine tuxedos, while the ladies come dressed in the most lavish, fanciful, gowns that money can buy, all made from fine silks and taffetas."

"Well if we have to dance," said Pooh. "Will they at least feed us?"

"Mercy yes!" Shawsey exclaimed. "The food taste and presentation is a show itself. More food than they have on a cruise ship!"

Pooh had gone on a cruise once with Shawsey and had enjoyed it more than anything he had ever encountered in the world, even more than going to T.G.I. Fridays. Pooh had gained seventeen pounds on the six-day cruise, but they were happy pounds. From that time on, Pooh said that heaven was one giant cruise ship.

"They have tables and tables of all kinds of different entrees," said Piglet. "They also have a huge oyster and cheese bar with cheeses from France, Rome, and Switzerland. The sweets tables go on and on for miles and look like something from _The Nutcracker. _Last year they even had a chocolate fountain with all kinds of fruit and cakes to dip in it."

"Whoa," Pooh sighed. "I guess it would be worth going."

"Of course it would be you idiot," Shawsey snapped. "Tis a pride and honor to be invited to this ball. Felix and I are on better terms then we were when I first breached my contract and left the Hundred Acre Wood Wolves. He is letting me invite a friend, so I chose you. He also said you could invite a friend as well. I told him to invite Eeyore, since Piglet, Rabbit, and Owl all get invitations anyway, Christopher-Robin is too young, and Tigger is a menace to society that doesn't belong in the VFW hall let alone the von Maurer Mansion. I'm sure you and Eeyore will enjoy the ball, but you must act like gentlemen. I suggest getting some dance lessons, and working with an etiquette coach."

"Oh bother," Pooh spat. "What's an etiquette coach?"

"An etiquette coach will show you how to walk, talk, and eat properly with grace," Piglet answered. Pooh began to laugh.

"I already know how to eat. Come let's make up a batch of blackberry pancakes, and honey cinnamon russets!"

It didn't take long for Christmas Ball fever to hit Winnie the Pooh. At home it was all that him and Shawsey discussed. Pooh set a date to go to the swanky Somerset Mall in the swishy suburb of Troy with Eeyore, to buy fashionable designer suits. Pooh would lay awake at night in bed clutching his inflatable Denise Richards doll, just imagining all the mounds of food, and sweets that would await him. Perhaps there would be a fountain spitting out only the finest champagne. Or a table piled with giant pink marshmallows dipped in chocolate. Pooh would begin to salivate just thinking about it. What a lovely Christmas this would be! However, Pooh's dreams begin to get slightly diminished.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Pooh, Eeyore, and Tigger had agreed to meet for a meal of booze and buffalo wings at Buffalo Wild Wings. Pooh was feeling merrier than ever thinking about the ball, and the plate of 45 greasy chicken wings slathered in honey blazing sauce that awaited him.

"So," Tigger said after a swig of his beer. "I hear you and Eeyore were invited to some hoity-toity Christmas dance at the von Maurer Mansion."

"It's not a dance," Pooh corrected. "It's a ball."

"Right," Tigger nodded. "At a dance you get laid. At a ball you don't."

"Oh Tigger it will be fun," Pooh defended. "Everyone will be dressed to the nines. And the food is supposed to be unimaginable. Like on the cruise ships!"

"Well I haven't been on no cruise ship," Tigger said sullenly. "I'm not some pretty boy born with a piece of cake in my mouth. You go hobnob with your rich la dee da friends."

"Tigger," Pooh exclaimed. "You are still one of my best friends! Just because I am going to a party with a bunch of different people doesn't mean I'll forget you."

"Yes you will," Tigger gulped the rest of his beer and barked for the bar maid to bring him another one. He slammed his fist on the table, causing Pooh and Eeyore's beers to shake, and almost sent the order of nachos that Eeyore was devouring flying.

"Watch it will you!" Eeyore exclaimed with annoyance. "Jesus! These damn cunt nachos are seven bucks!"

"Right," Tigger spat. "You are Mr. Play Boy richie too, so you can afford seven bucks for an appetizer."

"Fuck you," Eeyore grunted through a mouth of chips, cheese, guacamole, and black beans. "I have spent most of my miserable life living in a shit hole dump, working a dead end job, and being neglected and ignored by everyone in society. No birthday cards, no birthday parties at Hooters with lovely buxom strippers. No cake, no Christmas presents. I've been addicted from everything from smokes, to Risperdol, to Vicodin. I have been in and out of rehab and psychiatric care, and to top it all off I haven't been laid in over six years. I deserve more than anyone to go to this ball."

"Don't worry Tigger," Pooh said cheerfully, trying to override Eeyore's darkness. "Eeyore and I will take pictures, so you can pretend you actually came with us."

Tigger cracked an empty beer stein over Pooh's head.

"How can you two dill weeds possibly go to the von Maurer Mansion? How can you swish around dancing with his people and drinking his wine as if you are the best of friends?" He shrieked. Now everyone in the bar and restaurant had turned to stare at the scene.

"I'm not mad at Felix von Maurer," Pooh replied hotly. Tigger took another long gulp of his beer.

"Well you sure as hell should be," He snapped. "He's fucked up our football team, and he fucked up the city of Detroit."

"I think Detroit is a nice city," Pooh replied.

"He's fucked it up," Tigger growled. "His poor business decisions have ruined Maurer Motor Company! Maurer Motors is the heart of Detroit. We're loosing jobs! People!"

"I thought the Japanese making far more superior cars than the Americans is what killed Maurer Motors," Eeyore said.

"Well he did fuck up the Wolves," Tigger went on. "Hiring inadequate coaches, not spending a dime on the team because the idiot shit heads fans still buy tickets even though the team sucks!"

"Well that's true," Eeyore replied as he daintily dipped a chip in some sour cream.

"He hoards money from the fans all to himself," Tigger went on. Tigger loved going on political rants and what not, it was just hard for him to find a subjective audience. Now he had one at Buffalo Wild Wings. "Instead of getting better coaches and players for the team by expanding the salary cap he pisses away good motor blooded hundred Acre Wood fan money on fancy new football fields, fancy cars, private jets, and elaborate parties that you candy ass shit-lizzies attend!" Tigger got up from the table and threw on his dirty, worn, brown parka, and navy blue knit cap. "Go to your fancy ball in your 3000 dollar suits, with some plastic breast bimbo on your arm! Drink his wine, and eat his meal like you are the best of friends. I guarantee that you won't even see him! He don't give a damn about you. None of you! You are only invited to keep Shawsey Sanders from getting pissed off and releasing von Maurer's dirty secrets in some tell all tabloid book! He don't give one twittle fuck about you!"

"Well nobody gives a twittle fuck about me anyway," Eeyore shrugged and went back to his nachos.

"Oh bother," Pooh sighed as Tigger stomped out. The waitress brought over the chicken wings. "Oh bother," Pooh muttered. "Tigger is right. Perhaps it is wrong for us to attend the ball."

"Felix von Maurer doesn't care if we are alive or dead," Eeyore said after a swig of beer. He belched lightly. "Scuse me. Who cares why we were invited. We can go and enjoy the free food, the music, the girls."

"That's true," Pooh nodded. "Right now I am going to enjoy some of this food. Since Tigger left I guess we get double."


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

Pooh couldn't help but worry about what Tigger said. There was no way he could enjoy shopping for suits, listening to waltz music, and going to etiquette class with Tigger's words burning inside his skull. He decided to confront Shawsey about it one day while they were baking some Scottish jelly biscuits to send to the von Maurer family in gratitude for the invitations. Scottish Jelly Biscuits were an old Sanders Christmas cookie recipe that had been passed on for generations. They were crisp, buttery biscuits, so filled with butter they actually oozed butter after you bit into it. They were small sandwich cookies, cut into different shapes, and filled with raspberry jam. Shawsey had been battling a pretty croupy cough as well.

"Pooh stop eating all that raw cookie dough," Shawsey snapped as he rolled out some dough with the rolling pin.

"Why?" Tis rumbly in my tumbly," Pooh replied. He had dough and flour all over his paws, face, and shirt.

"Because when you ate that whole tube of slice-and- bake cookie dough I came home to you passed out on the floor, clutching your gut, and pissing yourself. Don't want to clean it up." Shawsey replied, he covered his mouth to cough. Pooh took one last bite of the chilled, buttery, dough. It slithered down his steamy esophagus where it was intercepted by the pillowy cushion of lard that lined his belly.

"Shawsey," he said. "Is it wrong to go to this Christmas ball?"

"Wrong?" Shawsey exclaimed. "Mercy no! Tis an honor to be invited and a disrespect not to show up."

"Tigger says that Felix von Maurer has ruined the Wolves by taking fan money and throwing lavish parties, instead of getting better players and coaches. Should I be mad at him?"

Shawsey stared at Pooh for a long time. Part of him was very surprised that Pooh could talk so intelligently about a social matter, but then again Tigger had told him this. Tigger intelligent? Then again Tigger had a point.

"Tis true," said Shawsey. "That is why I left the Wolves during my contract. It is one thing to play for a lousy team. Tis another to play for a lousy team that never gets better. It wasn't the players. Every new season we were all filled with hope for a playoff year at least. But when there is someone over you, making poor decisions for the team, it gets frustrating because there is nothing you can do to control it. A poor coach the players can rebel against, but the owner can do whatever he wants with the team. He can dress us up in pink ballet tutus if he wished. I got sick of von Maurer's decisions. Even though we have only won one play off game, and often finished last or next to last in our division, the fans kept filling the seats, merchandise sold. The Hundred Acre Wood never had to do any black outs on home games. The team made plenty of money, but the team never got better. Von Maurer did nothing about it. So I got sick of it all and left. Von Maurer still invited me to his parties because I'm a pillar in the community, and very powerful in the wood."

"Well maybe we shouldn't go," Pooh said. "Especially if he isn't fair."

"I once contemplated not attending," Shawsey admitted. "However, Christmastide is a time of happiness and hope. Peace on Earth and goodwill towards men. It's not a time to hold grudges or bad blood. Felix von Maurer put aside sour feelings for me to invite me, so I figure that once a year I can set aside any poor feelings I have, and focus on unity and good tidings. Now which cookie cutter do you want to use first?"

Pooh felt immediately better. Shawsey was right. Christmas was a time for hope and happiness, and good will. Not a time to hold grudges. He could eat his food, and drink his punch, and dance with his women for one night.

"The star," Pooh replied. "I want to use the Christmas star first."


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

Pooh and Eeyore went with Piglet for an etiquette lesson. The lesson was to be taught by some chick that Piglet knew. The lesson was at Wayne State University, and was private, with just the three pupils.

"Now who knows what some of the dances that you will be having to dance are?" The teacher, Mrs. Bogs asked.

"The hokey pokey?" Pooh answered.

"No," Mrs. Bogs sighed.

"The humpty-hump," Eeyore replied sarcastically. When Eeyore got sarcastic his eyes began to glow green, and get beady.

"This is not some sleaze dance at a cheap nightclub," Mrs. Bogs muttered growing impatient.

"Damn," Eeyore replied. "I don't know if I want to go then." To ease a delicate situation Piglet decided to jump in.

"We will be dancing the waltz, the pavane, and the gigue,"

"Very good Miss Piglet," a relieved Mrs. Bogs exclaimed. "Now can any of you tell me what these dances are?"

"A gigue is a bad movie with Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck," Pooh said seriously while scratching his privates.

"You dumb ass," Eeyore laughed. "That was_ Gigli,_ and it wasn't bad, it was simply dreadful."

"The gigue," Piglet said in a superior tone. "Is a fast jig like dance in 6/8 time Anglo in origin, the Pavane is a slow, dignified court dance in 4/4 time with gliding steps and skips. The waltz is in 3/4 time, and can be faster and felt in one, or slower and felt in three. They can range from anything to the Strauss Waltzes of Vienna, to songs such as _Moon River _and _Lara's Theme."_

"Well aren't we little miss when I shit, I shit gold," Eeyore grumbled.

"That's enough Mr. Eeyore," Mrs. Bogs scolded. "We will go over the basic dance steps for these dances later. For now let us work on our introductions."

"Introductions?" Pooh asked. "To who?"

"When you enter the Taurus ballroom you will be introduced to Mr. And Mrs. Von Maurer," Mrs. Bogs explained. Your name will be announced and if you are a lady you will curtsy, a man will bow. As you sink down you will say softly but sincerely, my lord, my lady. Lets us work on bowing and curtseying."

Pooh, Eeyore, and Piglet set to the task. Piglet already knew how to curtsey and she just needed a brief refresher. Pooh and Eeyore focused on bows. Out of the corner of his eye Pooh spotted the table set for the etiquette lesson that would be taught over tea. Pooh could smell the fresh golden raisin scones baking in the oven, and he spotted a plate piled high with shortbread.

"Oh bother," he muttered as his tummy gurgled. "Tis hard to concentrate when I'm so tired and hungry, and I can smell the food," he thought to himself.

"Pooh you must concentrate better," Mrs. Bogs instructed as she began to circle him. "When you bow, you mustn't keep your head up and your buttocks jetted out. You look like a pregnant, bobbing, duck. Not only do you look ridiculous, but you can loose your balance, and easily topple over."

"It would suck some major ass to fall in a heap at Felix von Maurer's feet," Eeyore snickered. "Plus when they announce our names they will know we are friends of Shawsey Sanders, and Shawsey Sanders walked out on the Wolves. They won't like us, and they will think we are disloyal."

"Oh dear," moaned Piglet. "I guess I'm glad I get invited because I'm rich. I would hate for Mr. Von Maurer not to be charmed by me. How awful. Whatever will we do?"

"The von Maurer's will be more impressed with your manners than your name," said Mrs. Bogs. "Let us go work on our table manners."

"Yeah I'm starving," Pooh said hungrily. He plopped down at the table and began to pile his plate with shortbread, and all of the chocolate dipped strawberries.

"Now Pooh," Mrs. Bogs instructed. "Tis not proper to hog all the food at the table. You are also to wait until everyone is served before you take a bite."

This was going to be a long day. The day got worse. Pooh spilled tea on Eeyore who claimed he was trying to scorch him on purpose. All he wanted to do was satiate himself by gobbling down his meal, but the whole time Mrs. Bogs was all over him for eating to quickly, or taking too big of bite.

"You must take at least thirty seconds between each bite," she bellowed.

"Thirty seconds!" Pooh shouted. "I know I'm a bear of_ petite_ size of brain, but if I were to wait thirty seconds in between each bite number one it would get cold, and number two second and third helpings would be gone."

"Tis rude to take second and third helpings," Mrs. Bogs shook her head. "It wouldn't do you any harm to break that habit right now."

"Why is that?" Asked Pooh.

"She's trying to politely say you're a fat ass," Eeyore chirped.

The dance lessons were also a disaster. Pooh couldn't keep any of the steps in time, he stepped on Piglets toe, he forgot steps. Piglet tried to help them out by whispering them in his ear.

"Point your toe, glide here, sink down." Still Pooh was all bobbles and errors. Mrs. Bogs spent almost the whole lesson yelling at Pooh, plus dancing right after eating gave him stomach cramps. You were supposed to sleep after a meal.

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered as they got into Piglet's black Lexus SUV after the lesson. "That was a disaster. I'm going to make a fool of myself."

"No you won't Pooh," Piglet replied. "This was only your first lesson. You'll have it by the ball. Your suit will look fabulous. You'll get loose on a little champagne punch. You will move ever so gracefully with the music, you'll twirl and glide and bow down to the Fords and they will be very charmed. And the food will be phenomenal."

Pooh began to feel better. When Piglet spoke of the ball it made Pooh feel like a

prince, and he knew everything would be okay.


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

In the next four days Pooh went to the Somerset mall and had a fine black Jos Banks suit fitted. He selected a matching, black, silk shirt and a bright red silk tie that he thought would be rather festive with it. Piglet insisted he get a matching red pocket scarf. He also bought a new pair of black dress shoes, and a fine black cashmere coat with matching black leather gloves. With the magic suit Pooh knew he would dance well. However, Shawsey's cough began to get worse. It got to the point where he could barely have a conservation without a spasm. Even with plates of holiday cookies, and gift baskets coming in from The Swiss Colony and Hickory Farms, Shawsey's appetite was diminishing. His muscular and very fit physique began to shrink.

December 13th, was a glistening, beautiful, Saturday, morning. Pooh rolled his ass out of bed around noon. He threw open the curtains and blinds and peered out at the landscape. It had snowed last night, a fresh snow. Instead of the moldy, gray, sludge-snow, a fresh pristine white blanket covered the wood. The sky was the clearest blue ever, not a cloud in sight, not even one wisp. The pines and white birch trees that adorned the wood were blanketed with snow and icicles that hung from the branches like Bavarian crystal ornaments.

"Jiminy," Pooh gasped. It was prettier than any Christmas card, or smoltzy Hallmark Hall of Fame movie that Pooh had ever seen. Pooh came out of his beef log induced sleep, and was immediately revitalized. The ball was only ten days away, and then Christmas two days later. What an exciting season! Plus he and Shawsey were planning on doing their Christmas tree tradition today. Ever year Pooh and Shawsey would go to Lohouda Brown's Christmas tree farm. Lohouda Brown was also an ex Hundred Acre Wood Wolf. Every year around Christmas he opened up his own Christmas tree farm, and donated all money to charities throughout Detroit. The farm was located deep in the wood, where the most fabulous trees were. Instead of taking a jacked up SUV out there, Shawsey always rented an honest-to-God wooden Victorian sleigh drawn by eight Clydesdale horses, all wearing jingle bells. To keep warm on the sleigh ride, Shawsey had a flannel battery operated blanket, and they took a thermos of hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps. Last year when they left the wind chill had been below zero. Even with the blanket and cocoa it was still too cold to enjoy it. This year the weather was absolutely perfect. Pooh quickly took his sponge bath, brushed his teeth and hair, and selected a red shirt off the floor.

"Shawsey!" He called and he opened the door and peeped into Shawsey's bedchamber. The drapes were drawn, so the room was as black as night. The figure of star running back Shawsey Sanders lay under a mound of blankets and pillows. Pooh quietly shut the door. It wasn't too unusual for Shawsey to still be asleep at noon on a weekend. On a weekday he was always an early riser. Up and about by seven, but depending on how much alcohol he had had or how good the chickie he took to bed with him was, he slept into the afternoon.

"I know," Pooh said to himself. "I'll make some pecan honey waffles, with some of those hickory smoked sausage patties. That will get him out of bed."

Pooh loved elaborate weekend breakfasts. He got out the waffle iron and whipped up a batter rich in honey, buttermilk, eggs, and fresh pecans that Shawsey had imported in from Louisiana. Pooh threw three pounds of hickory smoked sausage patties into a pan filled with pig grease that was kept out in the shed. The house smelled heavenly of roasted pecans, honey, ginger, and fresh coffee brewing. Most of all, Pooh loved the smell and the crackling sound of fat frying upon the stove. Pooh set the table with fresh creamed butter from the farmers' market, steaming coffee in Christmas mugs, pure maple syrup from the north woods, and cranberry-orange preserves. Still with all the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen, no Shawsey. Pooh was getting hungry, the aroma tantalizing his stomach. Once again he rapped on Shawsey's door.

"Shawsey, you who," he called as he opened it. "I made a scrumptious breakfast for us today of waffles and sausage!"

Shawsey answered by a coughing spasm that sounded deep deep within his chest. Pooh ran to the bed.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Shawsey shook his head and croaked

"I'm not feeling too well today. Bring me a cup of warm cherry brandy, with honey, and a shot of Grand Marnier. Boil it over the stove so that it's warm."

"But what about getting the Christmas tree?" Pooh asked. Shawsey coughed again, this time spitting blood.

"Don't nag me boy! Just bring me my tottie! Perhaps if I rest I will feel up to getting the tree tomorrow," Shawsey fell back into the sea of pillows. Pooh grudgingly made Shawsey's hot tottie. However, Shawsey was not better the next day. He was far worse, coughing up blood every five minutes. He couldn't eat, and he was starting to look feverish. Since Shawsey did not want Pooh driving his Jaguar, he had Pooh call an ambulance to take him to Detroit Mercy Hospital.

"It does not look good," said the doctor solemnly. "He has a fever of 102.5, which is quite high for an adult. You must keep an eye on it."

"What can I do?" Pooh asked,

"I am giving you three prescriptions for cough syrup and fever reducers. Get them filled. Keep cool cloths dipped in Lavender water on his forehead. If he wakes try and give him some warm broth, to help keep his strength up. If he is chilled make sure he has plenty of blankets," the doctor replied. "He's dehydrated as well. Give him lots of fluids, he may need some intravenously.

"Ain't there some operation thing you people can do to help?" Pooh asked. "He needs to take me to get a Christmas tree, and we have a grand Christmas ball to go to in nine days."

"Don't say ain't," said the doctor. "Shawsey isn't going to be up and about for at least three weeks, and that's if only he pulls through this. I'm afraid it looks very grim."

So Pooh and Shawsey went home. Someone had to be with Shawsey at all times. Pooh sat most of the time, but he traded with the occasional groupie, or football pal that came along to help. If Shawsey shook Pooh covered him with the electric blanket, and brought in space heaters. If he was sweating, Pooh put the cool cloth dipped in lavender upon his forehead. If he woke Pooh tried to shove down a pork and beef broth he had made from a giant T-bone and some of the bacon grease from the cellar. He constantly was making him his hot totties. He ran around to CVS and got Shawsey any medicines he needed. He filled hot water bottles, read him the writings of Sophocles, brought heating pads, gave him cool sponge baths, and turned him so he wouldn't get bedsores. Thoughts of dancing, glorious sweets, Kristal champagne, silk ties and pocket scarves, danced away as Pooh spent his days caring for Shawsey. There was no way that Pooh would go to the ball with Shawsey so sick. Shawsey needed constant care, plus Pooh didn't feel like dancing, when Shawsey was so near death. He called von Maurer Enterprises to leave him and Shawsey's regrets.

Eeyore however, was still planning on going.

"Can't you go to the ball for a little while?" He asked Pooh over the phone.

"Shawsey needs constant care," Pooh explained. "One minute he is hot with fever, the next he is trembling with chills. Plus I don't feel like dancing."

"What about the food?" Eeyore asked. Pooh was silent for a long time. Missing the feast and sweets was what bothered him the most about missing the ball. All those maple filled honey cakes, and peppermint white chocolate fudge!

"I can make myself a feast anytime," Pooh finally replied.

"Well I'll let you know how it goes," said Eeyore. "It will probably be lame. The chicks will only be semi-hot, the music will be all stodgy. Let me know if Shawsey bites the dust. I can get you guys a good deal on caskets and funeral services from the morgue."

Pooh felt as if he had walked from a world of glowing light, gingerbread houses,

and holiday glee, into one of doom and shadows


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

On the 21st of December Shawsey looked so frail and slept so deeply, that when Pooh first walked into his bedchamber he thought he was dead. Shawsey's breathing was labored, and shallow. He could hear the fluid that was in his lungs slashing around as if it were the Caspian Sea. The once massive mountain of muscle, was now frail and feeble. Pooh took Shawsey's small chicken wrist in his paw and held it to his cheek. He wished that he could pour some of his warm, healthy, energy into the listless body that lay under tons of down, flannel, and electric blankets.

"I won't let you die," Pooh promised.

It was dreadfully cold. No lilywhite sparkling blanket of snow covered the wood now. It had turned to a bitter, gray, corn slush. Poor Pooh was not allowed near Shawsey's Jaguar or Hummer so when running errands he had to walk. Sleet belted down onto his face. He drew his parka and blue Detroit Lion scarf tighter around his neck. Pooh had just gone to CVS to pick up some more cough medicine, and some vapor rub. Then he stopped by the liquor joint for two more bottles of cherry brandy, since he was making totties for Shawsey like a house on fire. He also had to mail Shawsey's cell phone, electric, property tax, credit card, and DSL bill. It was already pitch dark out, and colder than ever. Pooh was relieved to finish his last errand. He just wanted to go home, make Shawsey his tottie and broth, and then perhaps curl up with a good Christmas movie with a mug of eggnog and perhaps a crappy, rubbery, frozen pizza. Just as Pooh was crossing the street a Hummer limo passed by splashing a monsoon of gray, semi frozen slush all over Pooh's Columbia parka. Pooh was too busy admiring the Hummer limo to notice that he was now soaked to the bone.

"Oh bother," he muttered. Though he was a bear of diminutive brain he knew what that Hummer limo meant. Today was December 23rd, the day of the Christmas ball. That limo was taking some lucky guests to the von Maurer Mansion. Perhaps it was Piglet, Rabbit, Owl, or Eeyore that was inside that limo. "After today it will be over," Pooh kept telling himself as he trudged through the slop. "Then I won't have to be bitter about not going anymore. " It was now white out conditions of sleet and hail. Pooh was soaked, chilled, and red from hail pellets hitting him. He let himself in through the door, took off his parka and galoshes and hurried to the gas log fireplace in the family room. To his shock Shawsey was sitting up in a chair near the fire, propped up in a sea of pillows and blankets. Some god awful Christmas movie with Richard Thomas and Bo Derek was on the home theater.

"Shawsey!" Pooh exclaimed. "Why you're not in bed."

"Aye," Shawsey said weakly, but confidently. "My fever broke this afternoon, and I am able to sit up," he coughed, but not nearly as serious as it had been a day ago.

"You're getting better!" Pooh cried. "You need to eat. Can I fix you some warm eggnog?"

"I am better thanks to you," said Shawsey smiled. "You sure earned your rent for this month. If it weren't for you, I would have had to stay in that wretched hospital, or go to a nursing home. Let's have some warm eggnog to celebrate, and put a shot of some Grand Dad in there as well."

"Hurrah for Ole Grand Dad!" Pooh cheered and did an Indian war dance. "I baked a mincemeat pie as well. We can have that, and I'll bring some stuff in from the gift box from Hickory Farms that Owl sent to us."

As Pooh went to get the eggnog and food, Shawsey looked around him. Pooh had done an impressive job. Greenery and holy was thrown on the fireplace mantle, along with some nutcrackers. The stair banister also was trimmed with greenery. He had hung Christmas cards around the doorway of the parlor. Paper snowflakes had been tacked up on the windows. There was a Christmas tree decorated with lights, popcorn chains, and Shawsey's favorite ornaments, with Shawsey's Hundred Acre Wood Wolf football helmet adorning the top. Pooh had made the house look special, for if Shawsey had gotten better. Shawsey also remembered today's date. Pooh came in with a tray of two drinking horns filled to the brim with hot eggnog with sticks of cinnamon in them. He had cut six pieces of the mincemeat pie, and brought out an assortment of cheeses, pistachios, and summer sausages to munch on.

"Pooh Bear," said Shawsey with a little more vibrancy to his voice. "The Christmas Ball is today!"

"I know," Pooh sighed and took a long gulp of eggnog from the drinking horn. "I'm not going."

"Not going?" Shawsey asked. "But you must. If you hurry, you could still make it."

"You can't go," Pooh replied. "I'm invited because of you."

"Tis true, I am too weak to dance," Shawsey said. "But you saved my life. Even though I was sick with fever I knew you were there reading to me, feeding me that nasty, crusty, broth, making my totties. Plus you decorated the house. All this greenery makes me feel filled with new life. You deserve to go as my special guest of honor. You can take the Jaguar even. Now no more nonsense! You must have a buttermilk sponge bath at once."

It slid through Pooh's Ole Grand Dad clogged mind that Shawsey had said he could go to the ball.

"I can drive the Jaguar?" He asked.

"Yes," Shawsey exclaimed. "Now make haste! I have no energy to argue."

As if in some kind of dream Pooh was bathed in warm buttermilk until his golden fur shone. He slid into the black suit, silk shirt, and red tie. Shawsey helped him with the pocket scarf. He sunk back into the pillows.

"You look perfect. Felix von Maurer will be very pleased." He tossed Pooh the

Jag keys. "Now off with you!"


	8. Chapter 8

Part Eight

Pooh pulled the emerald green Jaguar to the front of the von Maurer Mansion. Big black iron gates surrounded the mansion, and numerous times he had peered in through the bars wondering what was inside. Now he would get to find out. The valet took his car. He was led up a golden, marble, winding staircase that had a mural painted wall. This staircase went right up into the Taurus ballroom. As soon as he walked through the door he was escorted by a lovely raven haired maiden in a fantastic royal purple gown down a red carpet. There sat Felix von Maurer himself, with the Mrs. They sat on massive, antique cherry wood chairs with ornate carving on them, and upholstered with apricot velvet. Pooh bowed down.

"My lord, my lady," he said. The suit worked it's magic for Pooh did not jet out his ass, or keep his head up.

"Winfred Pooh III," Mrs. Von Maurer said. "How very charming."

The Taurus Ballroom itself was indescribable. It had an enormous wooden dance floor that had been waxed so that it shone like a new sheet of ice. A small stage had been set up where the orchestra would play once the dancing began, Now, a chamber quintet played the music of Beethoven, Schubert, and Mendelssohn. On each side of the stage were cages gilded in real gold leaf, with Go-Go dancers dancing inside of them. The ceiling had been hand painted with a blue sky, wispy clouds, and cherubs holding lutes and harps. Huge windows clothed in light blue silk taffeta drapes trimmed with golden braiding and tassels decorated the walls. Right in the middle of the dance floor was a glass dome letting in natural light. There also was an extravagant, glorious, heavenly, crystal chandelier that had once hung in the Versailles. Pooh tried to find Piglet, Eeyore, Owl, and Rabbit through the mingling guests, but he got side tracked by the tables of food. The food tables could be called spectacles of just themselves. Pooh's jaw dropped, and his heart almost stopped.

"It's more exquisite than the cruise ships," Pooh breathed to himself in the same delight and amazement as a nine-year-old girl seeing _The Nutcracker_ for the first time would. There was a white marble fountain spewing Kristal champagne. There also was an open bar with any kind of liquor brand, schnapps flavor, world-class beer, and shots, known to man. There was a huge brass cappuccino machine. also there was hot mulled cider, spiced eggnog, and Godiva hot chocolate. There were tables heaped with shrimp cocktail, mussels, oysters, and clams. There was a caviar station with over fifty different kinds of caviar, and a cheese table with cheeses from over thirty countries. There was an on duty wine steward who would bring up any kind and vintage of wine desired from the Ford's cellar. There were baked mushrooms, crab and artichoke fondu, baked artichokes, and currant pones. A gigantic Ford Expedition ice sculpture adorned a table heaped high with fresh pineapple, mango, guavas, figs, and pomegranates. By the sushi table were pyrotechnic jets that intermittently spewed fire. There were medallions of Kobe beef, crab legs already cracked open for you, lobster tails, Foccacia bread, hummus, honey roasted chestnuts, shallots, deviled eggs, and honey cured ham pockets. Pooh nearly fainted when he spotted the sweets tables. Huge pink sugarplums hung from the ceiling.

Amongst the tables were mechanical ballerinas that twirled amongst the sweets. There was one table with over twenty different cheesecakes, everything from Irish cream, to pumpkin flavored. There were éclairs, napoleons, baklava, cream puffs, decadent tiramisu, fudge slices, peppermint patties, meringue fairies, crème brulee, lemon squares, fruitcake, ginger cake doused in real clotted cream, chocolate dipped cherries, apricots, and strawberries, a rainbow of pettifores, buche de noel, cannolies, pecan squares, apple strudle ala mode, caramel apples, peanut brittle, and a huge glorious twelve layer cake with twenty three tiers, one for each day of the month. The cake was decorated with tiffany blue icing, white piped snowflakes, and a white lattice pattern. It must have taken hours to complete and was a work of art in itself. Each layer was had a different filling, including apricot, pecan, white chocolate, Irish cream, and strawberry. Pooh took a humongous slice of cake filled with strawberry and coconut. He took another plate heaped with honey scones, Devonshire cream, mussels, crab legs dripping with butter, deviled eggs, and ham rolls. He took another plate with six éclairs, ten chocolate dipped strawberries, a piece of pecan pie, and three strawberry napoleons. He also got a huge goblet of blackberry wine, two shots of crown royal, and a flute of Kristal from the champagne fountain. He was just about to shove down his first bite of napoleon when Piglet, Eeyore, Rabbit, and Rabbit's lover Ramuegen spotted him.

"Pooh you made it!" Piglet cried.

"Yeah did he finally kick the can?" Eeyore asked. Piglet looked absolutely stunning. Her dress was silver, with a full puffy skirt. The dress was strapless, with intricate beading of diamonds and mother of pearl. The skirt was made of silvery taffeta and tulle. Custom made glass slippers trimmed with diamonds, a diamond choker and earring set, and a diamond tiara completed the ensemble. Eeyore was decked out in his black Jos Banks suit that matched Pooh's, except instead of a red shirt he had on a gray shirt and tie. Ramuegen was in an Armani Tux jacket and shirt with black leather pants, and fine black alligator shoes. Rabbit wore a black silk kimono top with black tux pants, and Prada shoes.

"Shawsey's fever broke," Pooh announced with a mouth full of food. "He's going to pull through."

"Hoorah!" Piglet cried. "Tis wonderful news. I knew you were a good nurse maid."

"This calls for a celebration," said Rabbit.

"Right-o," Ramuegen laughed. "I'll get a round of Jello shots for everyone.

Ramuegen headed towards the open bar.


	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine

The rest of the dance was a dream. Pooh found that he rather enjoyed Jello shots, but he enjoyed nothing more than all the food and sweets. He even found that he didn't mind dancing. Before the dancing begun, the crowd was silenced, and Felix von Maurer, and the mayor of Detroit, gave speeches. Then two life size mechanical dolls, one dressed as a toy soldier, the other was a pink fairy with delicate wings and long golden curls, took the dance floor. They were wound up and danced to _March of the Toy Soldiers_. The crowd oohed and ahhed as they pirouetted and twirled on the floor. When the dolls were done, the von Maurer's danced a waltz from _Swan Lake_ together. Then the floor was open to everybody. Everyone went out and bowed to their partner. The orchestra started with Strauss's _Roses from the South._ The suit worked it's magic once again. Pooh danced with Piglet, and then with some heavy set, but dressed in a gorgeous silk cranberry dress, Puerto Rican chick, who was a nanny to the children of the president of Chrysler Motor Company. He didn't step on her toes, he didn't loose time with the music, and he was graceful and courtly. As he went to get his dance mate a flask of Kristal from the fountain Pooh had to smile to himself. Eeyore was dancing with some flat-chested floosey in a way too low cut yellow gown. Tigger always said there was no point in wearing anything low cut if you had nothing to fill it up with. He also said a girl with a good rack had just a hearty handful, anything else was wasted. Pooh thought his Puerto Rican chick definitely had a hearty handful. He missed Tigger. They had barely spoken since their argument. Pooh felt sorry for Tigger sitting at home, all by himself. He spotted Owl by the cigar table, enjoying a cup of Louis XIII.

"Cherrio, happy returns of the day," Owl greeted him. Owl was clutching a beautiful cigar that was 150 bucks a stick. "Are you enjoying the ball?"

"Oh yes," Pooh replied. " I love dancing. "He helped himself to some more egg rolls. Pooh knew he would be sick for the next two weeks, on the toilet, and then stopped up from all the food and merriment of tonight, but he didn't care. It was Christmas. He was already so full that he had popped the button on his suit pants, but he probably wouldn't wear them again. "I just feel bad that Shawsey and Tigger couldn't be here," he said.

"Shawsey comes to these functions often enough," said Owl. "He knows the ropes." He and Shawsey were good golfing buddies. He lit his cigar, and then offered one to Pooh. "As for Tigger, don't feel bad for him. He could have been invited instead of Eeyore, but he wasn't just because of his own actions, not yours. Tigger can't hold down a job for more than two weeks, he has tons of bill collectors on his ass all the time, probably has forty illegitimate children that he owes child support on. My great nephew Owlmonzo had to go on one of those shows, I believe it twas _The Maury Show_ to do a paternity test before he paid any alimony on his two illegitimate children."

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered as he reached for a handful of butter mints. "I'm a bear of lukewarm brain. What does ill-e-git-e-mit mean?"

"Never mind," heaved Owl. "Tigger is just jealous."

"Jealous?" Pooh asked as Owl lit his cigar for him. "But Tigger gets to bed beautiful women whenever he wants to!"

"That is so," Owl replied. "But people trust you to do more grown up things such as this ball. That probably rags on him. Don't let it bother you."

Pooh felt better. If Tigger had his own demons to work out, that was his problem, not Pooh's. The rest of the evening was filled with dances, merriment, food, and drink, and ménages. At the end of the evening Pooh was filled with good food, and laughter. Piglet, Rabbit, and Owl all had rented limos and drivers. Owl had rented a Rolls Royce! Eeyore decided to go home with Pooh. There was just one problem, Pooh was too drunk to drive, especially Shawsey's prized Jaguar.

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered. "However will we get home?" They were stranded outside the von Maurer Mansion, in the blistering cold. Chips of ice belted their faces. For an answer Eeyore jumped head first in a snow bank and said

"hey Pooh Bear, want to suck on my Picadilly?" Pooh began to feel the

queasiness of the stomach, the pulsating headache of hangover. At least tomorrow was

Christmas Eve and not Christmas Day, so opening presents wouldn't be ruined. Pooh

plopped down on the front stoop. He had to do something before he or Eeyore puked all

over the steps of the glorious von Maurer mansion. Rabbit, Piglet, and Owl would not be

home yet, Shawsey was too sick. That left just Tigger to call to pick them up. Tigger

didn't even have a car. Perhaps Kanga could give him a ride. Pooh got out his cell phone.

With a champagne soaked brain Pooh dialed Tigger's number. To his horror, Eeyore

began to take a leak on the side of the mansion. He had to get home!


	10. Chapter 10

Part Ten

Tigger had been lying on his cigarette burned, and beer stained sofa watching porn videos of pregnant Latinas shooting milk. He was annoyed when the phone rang.

"Probably another collection agency wanting shit," Tigger muttered as he reached for the cordless phone that was hanging out under a pizza box. It could be D'Asia, the hot piece of ass he met at T and A Cinnabuns the other night,

"Tigger," Pooh bellowed. "Eeoyre and I need your help. We are trapped at the von Maurer Mansion. We are wasted and need a ride home." Pooh knew what was to come. A rant about how Tigger was just a low budget taxi service. Instead Tigger was silent for a few minutes.

"You went to the ball? With Shawsey being sick?" Tigger exclaimed.

"Shawsey's fever broke," Pooh replied. He shivered with the cold gusts of wind. "He's going to be all right. Look if you help us, I'll get you a six pack." There was silence. Pooh watched as the smoke from his breath vanished in the crisp, frigid, air.

"Okay," Tigger said. "I don't know how, but I'll find a way to get to you. But I don't want some cheap ass convenience store shit like Budweiser or Coors. I can bribe any thirteen year old to get me that shit. I want some good shit. I want some Guinness. Guinness like they drink in Ireland. I haven't had any of that shit in a long while."

"Promise," Muttered a freezing Pooh. "I'll buy you all the Guinness you can drink."

"Okay," Tigger said. "I'll try Pete Moss. He's in town for the holidays, he can give us a ride."

"Oh good," said Pooh. "But make haste! Eeyore just pissed himself."

"It will keep him warm," said Tigger. Pooh hoped this worked. Pete Moss and Tigger were their only hope. Pete Moss was the nephew of Miami Dolphins receiver Weasil Moss. Weasil had a beautiful vacation cabin in the wood, and often Pete would come for a visit to his uncle and all the booze, toys, and babes that came with him.

"Hey you guys," A security guard barked. "We're closing up the gates. You must leave now." The last limo had left from the parking lot. The mansion was already shutting off the elaborate, circus-like spectacle of Christmas lights that lined the estate. It had more lights than the Vegas strip.

"We were guests of the ball," Pooh explained. "We are waiting for a ride."

"Yeah right," the guard snorted. "I can't believe any hoodlum that says that shit. If I did, do you know how many bums we'd have snorting, and sleeping on this front porch! Now we are closing up for the night. You will have to wait for your ride outside the gates." With a heavy heart Pooh helped a stumbling Eeyore down the steps and down the path to the gate. As soon as they made it through, the heavy electric gate slammed behind them. The porch light went out, and except for the faint glow of the light from the Ford's master bedroom, the house was dark. Pooh huddled next to Eeyore to keep warm. Even with all the booze and peppermint schnapps he had consumed Pooh couldn't keep warm. The alcohol was just starting to go to his head and make him queasy with that hangover headache. It had taken longer this time due to all the food he had ate. Eeyore hurled onto the icy sidewalk. Chunks of half digested deviled eggs, figs, and peppermint ice cream glided over the ice like Scott Hamilton. Pooh went overboard on rich desserts such as baklava, fudge, and eggnog spiked with Southern Comfort. Eeyore had gone overboard on shots of Ouzo. Ice chunks were forming in his hair. He began to shake and tremble with beginning stages of hypothermia. All Pooh knew to do was huddle closer, and try to keep Eeyore's face away from the bitter sleeting wind. In the distance Pooh could hear caroler singing _The Coventry Carol._. He tried to take comfort in their song

_Lullay, thou little tiny child, By, by, lully, lullay._

_Lullay, Thou little tiny Child._

_By, by, lully, lullay_

Across the street at some other swishy mansion there was a beautiful Italian carved nativity scene with spotlights shining at it.

"Look Eeyore," said the shivering Pooh. "Look at the Christmas angel, and the Christmas star, the star of Bethlehem. It led the wise men to baby Jesus. Perhaps it will lead Tigger to us." Pooh had forgotten that Eeyore was a nonbeliever. Eeyore snorted

"Tigger ain't no wise man," he replied. "He can't even hold down a job making sandwiches at Subway. Face it Pooh. We are going to freeze out here. We are in single digit temperatures, with a negative fifteen wind chill. First we will get hypothermic, and then we will hallucinate because our bodies will loose oxygen, then slowly ice chunks will form around our hearts and liver, destroying it forever."

Pooh ignored Eeyore, though it was hard through his groans, of pre-hypothermia.

Pooh was also beginning to feel hypothermic. He tried to focus on the songs of the

carolers, but eventually they faded into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Part Eleven

Every Christmas Eve Pooh and Shawsey would make a huge, elaborate, breakfast of Belgian waffles draped with cranberry syrup and rich mule's butter. Then they would spend the day doing charity work. They would bring gift baskets filled with spiced meats, sausage, cheeses, wine, and fruitcake, to the homeless. They would march into the hospitals and bring dollhouses, toy soldiers, drum kits, and bicycles to children at the hospital. They would visit nursing homes and listen to the old tell stories of World War II, Gene Simmons, and the Great Depression. After a day of merry making, Shawsey and Pooh would go to church to praise heavenly father. The whole congregation would have a candle to hold and they would sing _O Holy Night. _ There would be beautiful, buxom, liturgical, dancers that would twirl down the aisles in flowing white gowns. One year Pastor Rothchild brought in a whole flock of real sheep to process down the aisle and pay homage to the baby Jesus at the alter. Pooh loved church on Christmas Eve. But now this year, he might not make it back. Shawsey would have to go alone. Pooh began to drift off, the alcohol and the food formed a lead pocket of sludge in his belly, he fell fast asleep.

Pooh saw a bright light heading towards him. He could hear the sound of a car motor, but it couldn't be, or could it. Pooh opened an ice. He noticed ice hanging off of his eyelashes, and white out conditions. Sleet began to beat his face. Eeyore was fully blue, with his eyes frozen shut. Before him was a big black Cadillac Escalade with Tigger in the driver's seat.

"Tigger!" Pooh screamed. Tigger bounced out of the car.

"I am so sorry it took so long," Tigger explained. "Quick hop in the warm car. It's got heated seats."

Since he was too weak and hung over to walk Tigger and Pooh hurled Eeyore into the back seat of the Escalade, where Eeyore could lie down and resume rest. Pooh got into the passenger seat. The heated seat spread warmth all the way up his back and neck, which was stiff with coldness. Usually Pooh was one of those sweaty sorts, always hot and sweaty, but tonight he was thankful for heat.

"Nice ride," he commented.

"Thank Pete Moss," Tigger replied as he headed towards Eeyore's place. "I'm sorry it took so long. I called Weasil's place but the maid said they had gone down to a bar for the night. I called Pete's cell phone and left a message. An hour and a half later he finally called me back. He was too drunk and it sounded like he had about three warm pussies in the sack with him. Man, I wish I had a famous football playing uncle. Anyway he didn't really give at shit if I took the Escalade to get you guys, so I had to walk over to his uncle's house, wake up the night butler, and have him give me the keys." Pooh glanced at the dashboard clock. 5:45. They had been outside in the cold for almost six hours! Pooh and Tigger together lifted Eeyore's frozen carcass out of the Escalade and into his trailer. Tigger filled the bathtub up with warm water, and with the help of Pooh, heaved Eeyore in it to defrost. Then he swapped a Molson Ice from the fridge, Pooh wolfed down a plate of cold cuts, and they went on their way.

"Thank you for picking us up," said Pooh. "I thought you wouldn't do it."

"Why not?" Tigger asked. "Because I don't have a designer suit, or a six figure car?"

"No," Pooh replied quickly. "Can we swing through the drive thru?" They were passing Krispy Kreme's 24 hour drive thru. Tigger pulled in. "You just seemed mad about me going to the ball," he continued as they waited for their order. "Why'd you change your mind and help us?"

"You changed it," Tigger replied. "Kanga told me how sick Shawsey was, and how she saw you at CVS buying his medicines and heating pads. All I heard was how you were reading to him, making his tonics, making sure he didn't get bedsores. I realized that you must still care about your friends even if you got to go to a party loaded with rich people."

"Of course I care," Pooh exclaimed through a mouthful of doughnut. "Trust me I didn't hardly even talk to Mr. Von Maurer, the mayor, or any of those people. I hung out with Piglet, Rabbit, Owl, and Eeyore. I did dance with this nice Latina lass with a great rack though."

"Oh yeah?" Tigger replied. "Did you remember what I told you about judging titties?"

"Oh yes," chirped Pooh. "She had a pleasant handful." It was like old times once again with Tigger. Pooh had never felt so full of goodwill towards fellow man. Everything was perfect, and tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Shawsey would be well again and they could go making merriness throughout the town.

"Tigger you must spend the night at Shawsey's don't drive home," said Pooh then he realized it was actually morning. "Oh bother, it's already six, I guess there is no night left."

"Nah," said Tigger. "This is my usual bedtime. Pete said I can keep the car until tomorrow. They got Weasil's hummer to get around in. Don't mind if I do crash in your guest room." Tigger knew that crashing at Shawsey's meant down pillows, satin sheets, a private bathroom with steam shower, and once in a while a Brazilian babe.

"Hoorah!" Exclaimed Pooh. "You can have our Grand Christmas Eve Breakfast with us."

"Yeah, waffles sound better than cold pizza with cigarette butts on it for breakfast," Tigger replied. They pulled in Pooh's driveway.

Pooh had never been happier as he stripped off his fine suit, and slid under the warm sheets. Shawsey had put the bed warmer filled with hot coals under the covers so the satin sheets would be warm. Pooh blew out his candle, and snuggled down as his head hit the pillow. Immediately he fell fast to sleep.

THE END


End file.
